Invincible
by Showtimebeej
Summary: When 'Livewire' seeks to immerse herself in the twisted world of 'Repo', or at the very least get a job, will she be grateful for what she finds or destroyed by it? And that's not to mention it's inhabitants...Graverobber/O.C.
1. Chapter 1: Queues

_"Any idiot can face a crisis-it's day to day living that wears you out."-Anton Chekhov_

The dim, orange light flickering lazily up above was starting to make the back of your head throb. Waiting in the seemingly endless line preceding the newspaper stall, you looked quickly around, tutting impatiently. There had to be a better way.

Despite the (increasingly elaborate) schemes weaving themselves into existence from the wheels of your mind, they just couldn't find a loophole in the facts: The only hour you that you had to yourself was between 7 and 8pm—the hour between the housekeeper's departure and your dad's arrival home from work. Speed-walking in the zombie-like downtown area already attracted enough attention, so you refused to run. Considering long queues were hardly ever an irregularity in this city, you normally had just enough time to grab your paper and go. You bounced on your heels, sighed and looked up at the sky. _Gimme a break-just one._

Yes, all-in-all, like it or not, you were stuck with this plan for now. _More like forever_. The absence of any queue last week had been surreal. Well, way more surreal than it probably was, considering that all you ever did outside the house was walk and queue. Everyone, even the tramps, no-hopers and drug dealers, had been cramming to get a look at that gene show or whatever it was. You hadn't even felt like getting the paper that day, so instead you took advantage of the miraculous leisure time by adopting a slower pace and peering into some of the shop windows. You didn't hang around for long though—these days a teenager loitering around a closed shop window just screamed 'casing the joint'. Apart from which it was critical that you weren't recognised, not that there was much chance of that; you doubted there were 5 people in the entire world who even knew of your existence. Still, a girl couldn't be too careful, and anonymity certainly didn't discount the possibility of being followed.

Shuffling forwards a few inches in the line, you inspected your camouflage with satisfaction: you wore a pair of knee-high black leather boots with two buckles at the top. Accompanying these were black skinny jeans, a black and red tank top with a handy hood and elbow-length fishnet gloves. Ok, so this wasn't your favourite attire but it would do for the outside world.

_Just about..._you noted as a girl strutted past in what was almost a bikini with stilettos and tattoos covering the rest of her. Taking a further step in the queue, you continued to watch her and saw her take what looked like a glowstick from pale fingers, and you blinked in surprise at not having noticed them before. The action was such that she might have been taking champagne from a waiter's tray at a high society gathering. As she passed this apparently floating hand without acknowledgement, it spanked her. You only assumed they were male from the low chuckle which accompanied it. Your lip curled in contempt.

"Ugh."

Inwardly, you clapped a hand to your mouth. Outwardly, your eyes widened and you stood frozen as many lethargic heads jerked upwards at whoever had made that strange and audible noise. The worst thing, however, was that the figure, whose outline had become more etched against the wall, had become perfectly still, and the invisible eyes were boring into yours. For the longest three seconds of your life, the gaze remained unbroken; then, flushing scarlet, you forced your eyes downwards and kept them there, still feeling his bruising stare.

This definitely was the longest time in a queue you had ever spent in your life.

**_A/N: Ok guys, this is my first attempt at a fanfic and I thought what better place to start that with Repo! I've had this sitting around for months and I figured it was time to bring it out :) a HUGE thank you to those awesome people who reviewed my sample of this fic; rest assured that part will feature! I know it's quite short but it felt easier to split it into manageable pieces. Please R&R-constructive criticism welcomed :D _**

**_P.S. Much as I am a huge Grilo fan, this is an Grave/OC fic, although she is a bit like Shilo...anyways yes just to clarify! _**


	2. Chapter 2: It's Complicated

After what seemed like hours, the dark wood of the kiosk display came into your view of the ground. "About time" you grumbled to yourself, rubbing your neck.

"Is there an unconscious Gentern down there?"

You grinned up at that one and only man behind the counter, Brad.

To be honest, sometimes it still felt weird to have a best friend named 'Brad'. Even if your only sources were TV and books, 'Brad' had always been associated with the popular jerk in high school who usually got some form of comeuppance from all the nerds (such as yourself) at the end. Yet, ironically, the name Brad just seemed to fit him very well...very well indeed. Anyways, his name wasn't important; it was nice to know the exception to the rule. Apart from that he was your typical quirky eccentric who was always making jokes and _always_ singing, be it in tune or not.

Brad craned his neck to look at the ground, and then smacked his hand on the wood in mock disappointment,

"Damn it."

"You are such a pervert, Brad."

He clutched his heart and his eyes widened before he swept over to take your hand in both of his:

"My sweet, darling, adorable little Livewire, thou wouldst turn against me?"

You giggled and blushed as he brought his eyes down to your level. They were a piercing blue, so much so that you imagined anybody in the street would find it hard to break a gaze with them. They were partially hidden under dirty blond hair, most of which was often hidden under a grey beanie. He had a sharp, angular face and was a bit taller than you with a not too skinny frame. Ok, so you had a smidgen of the hots for him-hell, he was the only guy apart from your father that you even knew. You removed your hand and feigned the look of someone maybe willing to make an exception if:

"Maaayyybeee a free subscription might sway me back...?"

He gave a bark of laughter, "Certainly, just step into that alternate universe over there and we'll talk."

"Well, in which case, I'll just grab my copy and be on my way."

"Right, so that's one copy of _Sliced_ for the woman in black."

As you handed him the money, he kept his hand over yours, "Seriously, Live, I was wondering if you wanted to, you know, go and see a movie. They're showing 'Saw XXXI' tonight."

"Brad, I'm sorry, I can't. I have things to do tonight."

"What things?" He said, unblinking.

"Just...I'm making the dinner tonight."

"Get a takeaway."

"I have to wash my hair-"

"It looks perfect."

"Thanks, but I also have work to do and I couldn't come out-"

"I'll pick you up."

You could feel the change in your hand growing very warm, "My, we are persistent tonight." You said, mischievously.

"Come on, I mean if you _really_ want me to..." he gave a resigned sigh, "I can get seats at the back of the theatre and maybe I could _just_ bring myself to make out with you..."

You clapped your hands together, "Oh, could you? Could you really? You are just every woman's dream!"

A voice sprung out from the queue behind you, "Hey, Romeo, she said no already, get a move on with my paper!"

Immediately Brad straightened up, "Right you are, sir, coming right up." He kissed your hand and finally took the money. You took your magazine, "See you around, Brad." He gave you one final flash of the teeth before returning to the other customers. Blushing still, you turned to start off home, grinning all over your face.

Oh yes. You had forgotten that guy in the shadows. You bloody well hoped it was a guy, anyway, judging from the sound 'it' had made earlier. Smile now replaced with a stony expression, you cleared your throat and strode past without glancing at 'them'.

You may have imagined it, in fact you'd be willing to put money on imagining it, but just for a second you thought you heard a fraction of a low, drawling chuckle.

One, it seemed, of satisfaction.

**A/N: Ok, two chapters on, I promise some better Graverobber input is coming up! Soundtrack for this chapter (if you're interested) is Kids In Glass Houses-Hunt The Haunted. Please R&R the story so far! **


	3. Chapter 3: Predators

**Author's Note: WORDS CANNOT EXPRESS HOW SORRY I AM FOR THE DELAY. Lots of business happening at the moment with uni applications and interviews and gahhh. Nevertheless, I know how irritated I get when fics I read get no attention from the author for ages with not a word, so once again, apologies. **

You used the precious time you had on the way home to flip through your magazine. At least you would if you could. You liked _Sliced_-it contained, as the name suggested, every aspect of life in the city, sliced and diced: current affairs, political debates, scientific advances, arts reviews, general articles, all of it in a nutshell. Very handy when you only had 20 minutes; apparently not tonight.

You tried to absorb yourself in the article at hand- a particularly juicy one this week-

'_Vampires: they've endured more than most. Sunlight, stakes, sparkly monstrosities and a near-apocalypse later, they're not ready to roll up the capes yet. Our bloodsucking obsession lives on…technically…_'

But you kept getting distracted by the feeling that _something_ was following you. Every ten seconds it was a misplaced shadow, a footstep, a held breath. It was no good trying to read this,

"I've read this sentence at least six times."

"Tried reading the next one?"

Freezing momentarily, you gritted your teeth took a deep breath and whirled around.

Nothing.

But that voice had been so close...

A knot in your stomach grew painfully tight as nervous irritation became fear. The only defensive weapon you had was a rolled up magazine, not a comforting fact. Ahead of you was a tunnel under a bridge with pavements on either side, raised so that they needed stairs and protected from the road by a rail. You half ran up the stairs and pressed yourself into the wall, allowing yourself to be swallowed up by the gloom. Considering you'd been this easy to follow so far, it was only a fleeting hope that you were now magically inconspicuous; still, the darkness made you feel just that little less vulnerable. Stupid in hindsight, it only really served in making you more vulnerable when faced with a master of shadows. You steeled yourself as best you could.

"Wh-whoever you are, p-please leave me alone."

The chuckle you had heard earlier started again and you felt ridiculous, yet you stiffened in fear and confusion when this grew slowly into a full blown roar of laughter. Your breathing quickened to the point of hyperventilation. You had no clue where this person was, so you just kept staring, wide-eyed, at a fixed point outside of the tunnel. You shut your eyes and hissed through your teeth,

"Go away!"

Silence. Not a gradually quietening howl into hushed cackles, but a complete, cutting, deadening of all sound. At first this terrified you more, but after a few minutes of barely breathing stillness, you allowed yourself to relax a little; maybe he'd gone, perhaps decided that it wasn't worth it, or that his fun had been had already.

_Or maybe..._

You turned and gasped to find yourself right in front of the offending party in question.

"No, really, continue. I'm petrified."

Now, you weren't a small person at a respectable 5'9", but this man towered over you nonetheless, although this wasn't helped by the close proximity between you. He stood with one arm above his head leaning against the wall, bent slightly forward so that his long, multi-coloured (but primarily blond from what you could see) hair hung down and framed his face. Said face was one of the palest you'd ever seen, literally white, making his dark brown eyes and painted lips distinctly eerie in the sparing light. His gaze, which had you transfixed, lazily meandered downwards and halted at the magazine threatening to escape your fingers.

"Ahh"

Not even realising it was now in his hands, you watched in stunned silence as he flipped over the magazine to glance at the article with one eyebrow raised.

"Every world needs them."

"What?" You had rediscovered the power of speech, it seemed, even if it was a hoarse whisper. His gaze held you once more and he leaned down to your eye level.

"Predators."

The word seemed to go on forever, as though you were hearing it for the very first time; like he had invented it.

_Don't be ridiculous_

You ignored the heat spreading over your cheeks and made a grab at _Sliced_,

"Give that back."

He was much too quick for you and held the magazine far out of your reach.

"No chance."

You made a couple of jumps for it but it was a pointless exercise which was only exacerbated by the fact that you didn't want to touch him. You folded your arms and stared hardly at him.

"You can either give me the magazine or cough up for it."

He raised an eyebrow,

"You English have the weirdest terms. Still, I like that, 'cough up for it'-sounds unpleasant. Cute accent, by the way, is it for real?"

You wanted to smile but you weren't sure if he was being sardonic.

"Look, are you handing it over or not?"

"Not until you answer a couple of questions."

"Wh-? "You were puzzled, what information could you possibly give him? "Screw this, keep it if you want." You made to push past him but his arm whipped out in front of you so fast that you jumped back in shock.

"Number 1: What have you got against me?"

You looked at his hand on the wall-that confirmed it. This was definitely the man from earlier. _Ah. Oh dear. _You stopped gaping like a goldfish and collected yourself; you had nothing to be ashamed of.

"Don't worry, it's nothing personal, I just don't like sleazebags in general."

"Bold statement-care to back it up?"

"I saw you spanking that girl, it was disgusting the way you treated her!"

"Aaaand did she look disgusted?"

"Well, no, but that's not the point, you can't just go grabbing women just because they…they might…"

"Hm? I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. Oh, oh I see!" He clapped his hands and looked skywards in a mock epiphany, "Of course, you're right, underneath that poncho and the sneakers I should have recognised, the innocent, decent little thing she was!"

You opened your mouth but nothing valid entered your brain,

"That's not…you…look you still shouldn't have done it!" He snorted in triumph and smirked down at you.

"Don't make moral assumptions on things you don't know shit about."

"Lesson learned, _sir._ Is there any point to-"

"Number 2!" he raised his voice over yours, "Recognise this?"

He pulled out a little glass phial like the one you'd seen him hold earlier and twirled it hypnotically in his nimble fingers. You didn't like to admit it, but no you hadn't; you sure as hell weren't going to say that, though. You cleared your throat and tried to sound confident.

"It's some sort of glow stick?"

He stopped spinning it and widened his eyes in surprise, smirk twitching.

"Wh-"he cleared his throat, "What?" He couldn't hold it together and his faced cracked into an actual smile.

"O-or something…like that."

"Pffff" he couldn't straighten up and this time he leaned his arm against the wall to support his shaking frame, while the other was wrapped around his waist. You'd never been humiliated this much in such a short space of time in your whole life. Defiance was useless against the power of your flushing face; you'd always been crap at hiding any kind of shallow emotion.

"Oh, well, fine but it looks like one!" he just laughed harder, "Well I'm glad you find this so funny, we'll just leave it there, shall we?" This time you easily shoved past him, making him nearly fall to the floor, and stormed off.

"No, wait, wait a minute." He said breathlessly, half-jogging to catch you up, "Hold up." You tensed as his fingers encircled your shoulder, "Jesus, at first I thought you were kidding! You genuinely _don't know_ what this is?"

"No, so are you going to enlighten me or keep me in this terrifying suspense?"

"Alright" he brought out the phial again with a flourish. _He really loves doing that, drama queen_. "This is Zydrate, as you can see it comes in a little glass phial." He paused, as if this was the type of information that needed to sink in. Yet as you stared, wide-eyed, at the beautiful substance, you realised he was in fact looking expectant, like you were meant to say something.

"Um, it's lovely."

He cleared his throat, "Moving on."

"So…what's it for?"

"Essentially it's a painkiller, the biggest anaesthetic on the market; able to numb any form of pain, however great. Puts you out like a nightlight, though. It's also…" he smirked, "highly addictive."

You cocked your head to the side, "So what are you doing with it? You don't look ill."

"Well, since big pharma loves to screw us around, I deliver it to some of the more needy clients." He gave you a hard look as the penny dropped.

"Wait, you _deal?_"

"Precisely." He held the Zydrate aloft, gesturing, "And the little glass phial goes into the gun like-"

"I don't really want to know the details, thanks." He glanced at you in surprise, "You mean you gave me all that moral assumption crap and it turns out you're a _drug dealer?_"

"Yeah. Point?"

You didn't want to be caught with nothing to say again, so you skirted the question, "So where do you get it if "big pharma" control it all?"

"Corpses."

"Nice." You said, unflinching, "And on that cheerful note…" you glanced at your watch, "Jesus!"

"It's Graverobber actually, but you'd be forgiven for thinking that."

You ignored him, "I've really got to go, keep the mag!" you made to go past him but he caught your wrist, placing the magazine in your hand.

"You come by that stall every day?"

You couldn't think of what to say, you were far too panicked about the minimal amount of time you had. He slid his grip off your wrist and stood aside, leaving you to hesitate in his gaze for a moment before you began to sprint for your life.

**AN: I officially have no excuse to not update sooner now as all my application shizzle is finito. I'm already underway with the next bit and I hope the fic manages to catch some interest! Also a huge thank you for the faves and encouragement from readers, you are the guilt trip that keeps this going :D Please rate and review, I'm always eager for constructive criticism to make it better! **


	4. Chapter 4: Mental

**AN: See? I said I'd be better at updating in the future **

Time has a tendency of dragging while you wait and skipping whole minutes when you're in a hurry. So it was such when you checked your watch for the hundredth time, trying to ignore the sharpness in your throat and the stitch in your side. Your brain was so filled with thoughts such as '_Oh shit shit shit!'_ and '_I'm dead, that's it, no paper for me next week, know why? 'Cause I'll be dead' _that you almost forgot to take the right turn to go behind the houses in the cul-de-sac. You ducked down to creep quietly beneath the various windows, only straightening when you came to the back of your garage. Lodging your foot on a small setup of bricks you had placed there months ago, you carefully hoisted yourself up and squinted through the tiny crack where the wall ended and the roof began. The view of the bare floor, while dim, was the best thing you'd seen all week and the relief was such that you nearly fell off the brick pile. Catching yourself (and your breath), you half-skipped to the back door.

"Honey, I'm home!"

"Well, it's about time! Where've you been?"

A tall, skinny woman in her 40s with frizzy red hair and heavily mascaraed eyes put a bony arm around you and led you into the kitchen.

"Yvette, where do I always go on a Thursday evening?"

She sat you down on one of the barstools by the countertop and set down a cup of tea in front of you.

"No cheek honey, it doesn't suit ya."

"Sorry."

"So where've you been? Don't tell me about the magazine, I know that already, why are you so late? You are beyond lucky that your Dad's stuck in traffic, he asked to speak to you when he told me on the phone and Jesus, I panicked, don't you be late again or god knows both our asses are history…"

You tried not to smile but you couldn't help it, so you tried to hide it behind a slurp of tea. She wasn't normally this highly strung at all; but when she worried, oh boy did she ever worry. If it had just been you and your Dad you would have been as late as you chose if it meant exile; but Yvette had a steady, well-paid job here and she was secure. You couldn't take that away from her. Besides, only a couple of years more and both of you (hopefully) would be out of here anyway. She caught your glance and stopped, folded her arms on the countertop and drummed her long, red fingernails with a raised eyebrow and a thin-lipped 'Well?' expression.

"I just got caught up talking to Brad, that's all. I'm sorry; I'll try not to let it happen again, okay?"

"Correction: it won't happen again. But you're here now, so…" she brightened, "Got caught up talking to Brad, huh?" She smirked, "He ask you out again?"

You looked down bashfully at your hands clasped around your mug of tea, "Absolutely" you murmured.

"Not a quitter, is he? What did ya say?"

"What do you think? The usual, hair-washing, dinner-cooking, work pile I normally say. Course, he finds the solutions to all of these now."

"Wow…" Yvette blew some of her frizz away from her eyes, "He must really have it bad for ya."

"I know, braaagh why do bloody men exist?"

"Sweetie, some of the greatest male minds have tried and failed to figure that one out. Do you like Brad, y'know, in _that_ way?"

"I…" you honestly hadn't figured it out yet. On the one hand, he had plenty of excellent boyfriend qualities. On the other hand…much as you believed he was respectful and nice, you still couldn't figure out what his ultimate goal was-whether you were a potential girlfriend or a conquest. On top of that, you didn't want to ruin any kind of friendship you had by telling him any of this or indeed accepting his offers.

"Because from the sound of it, there seems to be some nice chemistry between you two."

"Yeah." You snapped out of your reverie, "Speaking of chemistry, I'd better finish that write-up. Nothing much, just the evaluation."

"What's it on?"

"Buffers" you made a face, "ugh." You _hated_ chemistry. Well, when it was this hard and pernickety anyway.

"Need any help?"

"Nah, I'm alright, thanks. Should be about half an hour, thanks for the tea."

"Just as well, I thought buffers were just things on railroads."

"He's no good for you, you know. "

Your lips twitched, which you knew he could see despite the fact that you were still leaning out of the window. The finished experiment lay enclosed in a folder on the desk. _Thank Christ._

"I cannot think what you're talking about." You propped up your elbows on the windowsill and rested your head in your hands, wearing a look of seemingly deep interest.

"Well let me see, love: drug-dealer, womanizer, amoral scoundrel and wait, let me guess the predominant factor in your mind...bad hygiene, am I right?"

You kept your smile but your brow furrowed, "You know that you are." Sometimes it bothered you that he would just help himself to your thoughts like that, it was rude. Especially as you couldn't do the same to him. Honestly, why couldn't he at least pretend like he didn't know what you were thinking, like any normal imaginary friend?

"Did you just say _normal_ _imaginary friend?_" he said, chuckling, and the concept was so ridiculous that you couldn't help but join in.

"I do love you, Jack."

"And I you, sweet, but that's elementary. Do you love him?"

"What?"

"Ok not 'love' but, oh you know what I mean."

"Of course not, he's rude and chauvinistic and patronising. Honestly, Jack, how long have you known me?" You teased.

"Too long, dearest." He countered. You laughed quietly again,

"Maybe." You and Jack had 'met' when you were 14 and originally he was just an incarnation of a certain swashbuckling character while your hormones still raged towards the climax of puberty. Yet as you got older, he began to take on his own personality and he had changed so much that you had no idea what he looked like today. Obviously his character had moulded itself to your growing maturity. Although you did miss those first two years, when you both had such adventures; of course, all of these would involve, if not centre upon, deeply tragic and moving love stories between the two of you, most of which would have made Romeo and Juliet look like the Waltons. At one time, you had really believed yourself to have been in love with him; but as with all 14 year old 'great love stories of the age' it didn't last for more than about 6 months. Now you were just mental besties. _Well, mental's one word for it..._

"Love, you know that's not what I asked" he didn't bother hiding the sly amusement in his voice, "What I meant was, do you find him attractive? And don't bother saying no right away because I'll know you're lying."

"Right, sure." but you took him up on it, trying to come up with some attractive qualities. A flush of irritation and...Something else...spread through you, as you felt immediately challenged to find something physically _unattractive_ about him. His marble-toned skin and his facial structure-so clean-cut and manly, _if only he __**was**__ clean_; the way he managed to tower over you, despite the fact that he was only about a head taller than you; the deep, glittering, almost black pools that were his eyes; and those long, slender fingers on his pale hands which managed to move with a kind of eerie grace without being effeminate. And that wasn't to mention what you _couldn't_ see from your encounter; let's face it, his body looked nice. You unknowingly chewed your bottom lip, what did he look like underneath? Inexperience certainly didn't deter you from imagining a perfectly formed chest, toned but not bulky arms...wrapping around your equally topless self. The breeze whipped up and made you shiver as you thought about it. And what would happen if he-

"Whoa, tiger, whoa! I think I've got the message there! God, he must be nice if he's left you speechless."

You straightened up quickly, "Right, that's it. I'm going downstairs."

"Oh come on, dearest, I'll behave, promise."

You turned back at the doorway, "You know I'll be back, I sleep here after all."

That was one of the odd things with Jack. Unlike "normal" mental buddies, instead of having secret whispering conversations and saving him a seat at the table, he completely disappeared when other people were around. This was a relief in some ways.

"Well, I'll know where you are sleeping if you're not back." He winked.

You huffed and shut the door forcefully.

**AN: well, there you have it, Livewire is not altogether there. Maybe she fits into Repo-world more than she realises? Please R&R and I also would very much welcome suggestions as I have a bit of a mental (geddit? Like the title of the chapter? Grave: -.-) block. I have stuff written up for the long term outcome but I need a couple of filler events. I have a side-plot and short filler but they're not enough to make whole chapters. I may/not introduce Live-s Dad in the next chapter…fml. Anyways, as you can see, suggestions are welcomed! **

**Grave: do you even know the definition of succinct?**

**Me: Shaddup –goes to get dictionary- -Wham!'**

**Grave: Ow! The hell?**


	5. Chapter 5: Questions

**AN: The song I listened to for this chapter was the acoustic version of 'Diary of Jane' by Breaking Benjamin. For the full fanfic experience I recommend having it the background!**

* * *

_Painted smirk, piercing eyes; pale, spindly fingers reaching out to close around your throat._

_Cold, it was so unbelievably cold. Your hands were jerking as though plagued by tetanus and they were frozen in a claw shape. _

_Something was crushing your chest; blood was pounding in your numb lips_

"_aaAAAH!"  
_

Gasping in a long, deep breath, you blinked when you noticed you were sitting right up in your bed. Your heartbeat was ringing in your ears and thudding worryingly against your ribs.

"Calm down, calm down."

You made to lie down again but squirmed as you felt the sheets soaked in sweat. Sighing, you threw back the covers to air the bed. Your whole body was clammy and cold but you carefully opened the window and folded your arms on the windowsill. You shut your eyes and let your other senses take in the night. The cool currents of air that wound around your limbs and neck; the way your hearing became keener in the absolute stillness of 3 am; the night air even _smelled _different.

You stayed this way until you began to shiver; despite the early hour, you were determined not to be caught with the bedroom light on. So it was as quietly as you could that you felt your way to the en-suite bathroom. Eyeing the slightly toothpaste-scummy glass on the sink for a moment, you shook your head and filled it with water. Against your blotchy cheeks the glass felt like heaven and you pressed it harder in an attempt to shake the sweat-inducing memories from your brain.

"This. Has got. To stop." You mumbled quietly. You didn't want to be so self-indulgent as to stare into the mirror, so you squeezed your eyes shut, as if pain might counter the looping video in your mind.

When you and your father had once argued, you had gone quickly to your bathroom mirror to wipe your mascara-stained eyes. Not yet finished, he stood in the doorway, making a noise that said 'pathetic'.

"That's right. Look in the mirror while you suffer."

You stared at the floor and sighed deeply.

* * *

"Unnnh…"

The sunlight beating into your brain and through your eyelids was creating a dull ache. Groaning, you peeled your face off a scapula; or, more accurately, the 'Gray's Anatomy' illustration of a scapula. 3 knocks and a muffled voice sounded through the door.

"Honey, you awake? You'd better hurry up before your father heads off."

You cracked the necessary body parts and stumbled into the bathroom. The sink's cold tap provided welcome relief-you felt as if your right eye might explode. You showered off the morning dirt, mouthwash-ed away the morning breath and scrubbed the ink-stain of 'spine and acromion' off your face.

* * *

Today was a paper-clenching day.

It is a well-known fact that you can discern a lot about a person at the breakfast table. A family which upholds strong values will sit together at the table, whereas the more laid-back family might eat on the sofa. Obviously someone who eats with their mouth open has fewer good manners; but someone who watches you eat has a controlling or judgemental side…or has a weird fetish…or is obsessed with you. Anyway, watching people's interactions says plenty about themselves and their relationships.

The morning paper was always at the breakfast table. If it remained folded on the table, your Dad was in a good mood. Whenever your Dad was holding it open instead of eating, this meant he was stressed. But if it was open and he was clenching the sides, this sent out a clear message of 'don't even talk to me thismorning'.

Head bent, you tried to eat as quietly as possible for about ten minutes before you heard the sound of rustling paper.

"Morning."

You smiled at him, "Morning, Dad."

Silence except for the clinking of cutlery. You cleared your throat,

"Did you sleep well?"

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, "Up all night with the Bronski case. God, why some people just can't get repo'd and have done with it I'll never know."

"Hmmm."

When you had first moved to the metropolis from England, your father had started out as a partner in a small, independent law firm. For a few years he had represented families of unlawfully repo'd victims and he grew popular in citizen circles. One night he had come home exultant that a GeneCo representative had offered him a job. Although you were too young to understand any of it, he had raved about how they considered him a 'valued and respected' member of society and how they thought his services should be available to the wider community. A couple of promotions later and he now worked as the defence for GeneCo's SurGens who were being sued for botched operations.

"Well, I hope it goes ok, Dad."

"Thanks, darling. If it does, I'll buy you something nice, how about some nice perfume?"

"Well, actually Dad, I was wondering if you might bring me back some prospectus's like I asked f-"

"We talked about this" he said in a steely voice, "and the answer is still no."

"But it might-"

"No buts! How many times do I have to tell you, that sort of thing leads to questions?"

Ah yes, _questions_. Sometimes you thought your father would rather eat his own hand than have to deal with _questions_. Maybe it was the effect of being a lawyer, who knew?

The silence lengthened.

"I'm going to get some tea."

* * *

**AN: Hey guys, sorry this isn't the most exciting of chapters. There'll be more of Live's background to come but you'll be seeing some more of our favourite Graverobber soon! Please rate and review. All work and no reviews makes writer's block imminent!**

**Grave: -facepalm-**


	6. Chapter 6: Point

**AN: Ok, maybe I wasn't as good as upholding that promise of more frequent updates as I thought I would be. Truth is, I had massive writer's block; I know the big events I want to happen but the fillers...for a while my mind was ( ). So anyway, to make up for it, I've inserted my longest chapter yet! Please review with critiques and suggestions, it inspires me further. Also, I'm making a teeny adjustment to the first chapter. Nothing heavy, just the hour Livewire has to scuttle out and grab her glossy before daddy dearest gets home. Enjoy!**

A slammed door stood between you and the "discussion" downstairs. A spherical bottle of Dior perfume was clutched in your hand.

You were too angry to shout.

"_Liar, you want to scream from the rooftops._"

"Shut up, Jack!" You paced back and forth. "'Don't wait up'? Stupid, evil prick. He doesn't give a flying fuck about me!" You eyed the window. The glass bottle began to grow slippery in your grasp. Throwing open the window with one hand you hesitated before hurling the object downwards. Making to shut the window again, you gasped upon hearing a cry from down below. "What the?"

You hoped you were seeing things but even in the streetlight, that fleeting combination of brown, red and white could only mean one thing.

* * *

"You!"

"What the hell is this? It's not coming off!"

"Dior" you mumbled through the glass pane of the back door.

"What?"

"Er…"

"Look, open the door!"

"I can't, Yvette has the spare keys."

Clearly irritated, he stopped fussing with the hem of his coat and straightened. You took a step back as he reached into an inside pocket but it was only to produce a piece of wire. No sooner had he bent down when the back door swung open.

"Please don't hurt me. I'm sorry, it won't happen again, I promise!" Your hands were held out defensively in front of you and you gasped in horror as he grabbed a wrist. Rolling his eyes he began to drag you outside. The will to stay in the house was outmatched by the lack of grip you had on the floor. Swinging you behind him, the click of the latch on the back door made your heart skip a beat. When he released your wrist you immediately tried the doorknob but to no avail. He held up the hem of his coat again. A dark, sweet-smelling stain had been made worse through him rubbing at it. He fixed you with a stony expression.

"What. Is. This?"

"Pure Poison by Christian Dior. It's perfume."

"Oh, ok, thank you for clarifying that." He spoke with feigned bewilderment, "But tell me, _why_ is it on my coat? Why was I nearly concussed by the bottle?"

"Well if you hadn't rubbed it wouldn't be-"

"Do _not_ turn this around and answer the fucking question!"

"Alright alright, sheesh…" he gesticulated with his hand as if to say 'go ahead then', "I…My dad gave me the perfume. He won a big case today but I asked him to bring me some university prospectuses instead. Bastard still treats me like a child." You recalled how his breath had reeked of whiskey when he kissed you in the entrance hall. Looking down, you were surprised to find your hands balled into fists, transgressing into fear when you noticed his hands were similarly clenched.

_Oh god, what's he going to do?_

"Cool it, rich girl; I'm not gonna hurt you." He gave an annoyed sigh, "Well, this pretty much proves my point right here."

"What?" Fear dissipated into pure confusion. "What are you talking about, what point? And what the hell are you doing here?"

He cocked his head to the side, "Duh, I followed you." His eyes scanned the house critically, "I can see why you are how you are, though. Damn." Was there something you were missing here? "So, you're daddy's little girl, huh?"

"Pff, no, far from it."

"Ah crap, it gets worse; you're a daddy _issues_ girl. If I could get Zydrate out of the million corpses of _that_ cliché…I'd still be bored by it."

"Hey don't judge me, you don't know me!" you snapped.

"Should I?" he seemed utterly disinterested in what you had to say.

"You just don't get it do you? He's evil! He's a corrupt, manipulating bastard!"

"Has he ever hurt you? And don't give me any BS, I mean has he ever physically hurt you?"

"Well, no, but he twists everything!"

"Does he starve you? Does he lock you up in a cupboard? Does he even lock you in your room?" You were silent. "Where is he now?"

"Out." You muttered. He had told you not to wait up; he was having celebratory drinks with his suit buddies. _Mustn't keep his 'business affairs' waiting._ You were brought out of your reverie by a derogatory noise.

"You're a moron, I could be anybody!" His voice took on the tone of a parent explaining road safety to their 4 year old, "Next time the big, strange man asks you where daddy is, you say 'in the kitchen, making dinner', got it sweetheart?"

"Shut up, you don't even know what it's like! He'd rather do anything that didn't involve spending time with me!"

"Ugh…" he sighed before seizing your arm, "come on."

"Hey! Let me go, I said let go!"

The grip tightened painfully.

"If you don't stop whining and get me caught, then I swear to God I'll start trying out live Zydrate extractions."

Swallowing, you kept your mouth firmly shut as you both left the cul-de-sac; on your normal night-time route, he took you right where you would normally turn left to Brad's kiosk. More people started to appear, dotted around, as you wound your way through the alleyways. After a while (you were too busy taking in these new surroundings to notice the time) you thought your sight must have malfunctioned. The only thing covering the walls for as far as you could see was Graverobber's condescending leer. It wasn't until you saw the big letters that spelled 'WANTED' that you realised. You cleared your throat.

"Quite the popular guy, then?"

He glanced at the wall and chuckled, "Assholes. Sometimes I wonder if they're just advertising for the support groups. They know none of my clients would bail on me." You wanted to enquire, or just say something to further relieve the tension but it seemed you had finally arrived. "Now then," he shifted his grip to your shoulders so that he stood behind you, "see her?" He pointed to a girl who couldn't have been a whole lot older than you, wearing a purple corset, fishnet tights with spiked heels, a mini top hat placed at a jaunty angle and holding a bright white feather boa to contrast her velvety dark skin. "That's Honey. She and her two co-workers have been friends for years. Their dream is to all start a business together but competition's so tight that you need a degree to be taken seriously. Jobs are so few that they've got to work the streets to make the tuition fees. Oh, these ladies have got it all worked out: one of them will go to college and teach the other two as she goes along. That way they have the qualification to get them started but they all have the know-how. Sounds pretty straightforward, right?"

"Right…"

"Wrong. See, a couple of months back, one of them got in with a bad guy. Dickwad got her to have a nose job she couldn't afford, screwed her and left without paying for the privilege."

"Oh god, what happened?"

He raised an eyebrow, "Not so hard done by now, huh?" You bit your lip and blinked awkwardly, "Well, you can imagine how bad things were between them. A big fat cut of their money went towards the surgery, to stop her ass getting Repo'd; nearly split them for good. But their drive is so great that they called a truce and well…now they're starting pretty much from scratch. Godammit, they want this so bad that if they care at all about restarting, it doesn't show."

"Playing the martyr again, G-man?" The girl called Honey was strutting towards you, grinning broadly.

"Just showing rich girl how real people live. Where are Pyre and Glitz?

"Job-hunting. Hey, don't be too hard on rich girl here." She shot you a wink, "She don't know no better."

It felt stupid to smile but despite the insult behind the comment, she seemed a lot less hard than you expected her to be given her history. She adjusted the purple, glitter-drenched hat over her short, caramel braids before extending her arm, "Honey."

You shook her hand but paused, waiting for another name. When none came, "Livewire."

"So where you from?"

"Um, not too far away." You felt idiotic for not being able to give the name of your street but then again, did you really want to? You hastily searched for a change of subject, "So, what do you call this place?" You scanned your eyes indifferently over the dumpsters, blinking streetlights and stumbling drunks as if it were a park. Honey gave you an 'oh bless' look.

"I don't know if it even qualifies as a 'place', more like 'shit-hole'. But if you mean does it have a name, then it's mostly known as 'Addicts Alley'."

You tried to look un-phased but shifted your feet nervously, "Oh, right. So, what time do the addicts get here?"

Honey chuckled, "Don't look so edgy." She pointed at Graverobber, who was unpacking what looked like a tool bag on top of a dumpster lid some way down the alley, "They're only interested in that man there; otherwise they're way too spaced to notice anything else." She gave a nod towards a woman you'd previously thought was drunk, except now you noticed the glassy quality of her eyes and the way she became more composed on noticing Graverobber. You watched as she ran a hand suggestively over his shoulders and leaned in to whisper in his ear. Your head cocked to the side as the woman disappeared behind a corner and Grave, after checking around him, followed suit.

"Where are they going?" You asked. Honey was trying to hide a wry smile.

"Looks like Grave's got a 'lay-pay'."

"Wh-…wait, what? You mean they're?"

"Mm-hmm" she nodded, eyebrow raised.

That bastard, taking the moral high ground and then treating his 'clients' like prostitutes before pumping them full of drugs!

"You mean to tell me I've been dragged here with a full lecture just-"

"I know, I know. You're not the first one he's tried to prove a point to." Fuming, you began to march down the alley when Honey's hand closed around your arm. "Whoa, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm going over there to tell him exactly what I think of his 'unfair system' crap."

"Don't even think about interrupting him in the middle of a job." You raised an eyebrow, "Well, you know what I mean. But seriously, if you want a safer journey home you'll take my advice."

You exhaled irritably and looked around, arms folded.

"Look, I'll tell you this now so you don't get it off him later. Grave and I have shared the same turf for a long time and never have I known him to _make_ someone addicted to the Z. It might not be the case all the time but _I've _only ever seen him cater to current addicts and scalpel sluts."

"But he still treats them like hookers!" You froze, "I-I'm really sorry, it just came out, I didn't mean…"

"It's ok, I'd have been more offended if you'd been aroused by that fact. Believe me, a lot of people are."

"Sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Anyway, I was going to say that there are plenty of fates worse for scalpel sluts who can't pay in cash. Countless times you see them lured into the wrong kinds of sex trade, when the pimps, dealers and even SurGens make a bargain. Each one shares the profits in their own way." You swallowed, blanching slightly. "So you see what I mean, a quick fumble really isn't anything compared to what some people exchange for Z. Oh, I'm not condoning it but, well, like I say, better that than your life." The muscles in your arms un-bunched a bit but nonetheless they started to shiver; maybe it was the summer breeze and the fact you didn't have your jacket, maybe it was the adrenaline crash from all this, all these new experiences. "Here." Honey removed her boa and placed it around your bare shoulders. The transferred body heat trapped between the feathers was comforting, "Don't be too hard on Grave" she laughed quietly, "I reckon it's just a God complex from having his face put up everywhere. He just hates the system-who doesn't? If he can make some sense to one person at a time, at least it's something, to him anyway."

_Wow._

You were utterly speechless, pulling the feather boa a little closer around your shoulders.

"Thanks." You muttered.

"Hey, no problem." Said Honey with a warm smile.

Just then Graverobber returned, with no girl in tow, you noted. With an acknowledgement to Honey he started walking back the way you both had come. With a hasty thank you and goodbye to Honey, as well as the handing back of her boa, you jogged to catch up with him. You hoped to god he was going to pass your house at some point in his stride. He didn't seem too, if at all, fussed whether you followed him or stayed behind.

"So…Honey seems nice."

Not even a look your way. For a while you tried to think of something better to say, some delicate way to ask the way home without setting him off again on his 'point'. You had decided that, following Honey's revelations, you wouldn't question what you still considered to be unsavoury actions. Finally you were so panicked that you were never in fact going to get to a street that you recognised and you still had so many unanswered questions that you grabbed his arm to make him stop and face you.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because people like you make me sick! You bitch and moan while you sit on the luxury of the moral high ground and in your lovely, warm, furnished homes."

"Right, so you're saying that if I were a hooker or a junkie then my opinion would matter? Do you think I can help what I was born into?"

"I'm-"

"And don't you even think about robbing us because I'll be onto your ass like a ton of bricks!"

"Tch, if I wanted to rob you, I'd be doing it right now." You swallowed, was all this just a distraction? He rolled his eyes, "Please, I ain't got a death wish and as far as robbing goes, houses aren't my style. Look, I'm not saying I want you to be destitute, I'm just saying be a bit more…grateful."

"I" you started to protest but, but…

_Damn_

Your head hung in shame and you rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly, completely at a loss. A hand closed around your shoulder.

"Come on" he said in your ear, "I'll take you home."

Shock and…something else you didn't know how to define…made you jump slightly. There wasn't much room to walk side by side so you followed him in silence; too awkward and ashamed to say anything, too stubborn to admit he was right. Nothing gave him the right to treat you like this, he didn't even know you!

_Nothing gives you the right to feel exclusive either._

But it wasn't as if you didn't know about these poor people and what they went through!

_Wasn't it? How often do you think about them when you're throwing your toys out of the pram?_

"Oof!"

Your thoughts were cut short by a collision with the red furry material on his coat. He took hold of your shoulders before you lost your balance.

"Easy, rich girl, don't go mussing up my coat again." He gestured grandly to your back door, "Welcome back to your normal life." You swallowed, not really all that pleased to see it. Just then a light switched on in your head.

"Hey, could you show me that thing you did with the wire in the door?"

He blinked, surprised at your request.

"Why would a nice, securely-housed girl like you want to know that for?"

_So I can get out of this empty, soul-sucking void I have so far called 'life'. _

You smiled sweetly, "The better to come and see you all!"

Graverobber's eyes narrowed and looked you up and down. As the moments dragged on, you were determined to not crack or have your smile falter.

"Ok." It took a few goes for you to get the knack of fiddling the wire exactly the right way in order for the latch to click but eventually you could just about manage without any help. _I hope this doesn't bugger up the lock._ A triumphant grin spread over your face as the door handle obliged to your touch. When the door clicked shut behind you, you swivelled around, arms wide.

"Ta-da!" The smug expression vanished-there was no one there. "Huh?" Peering around as best you could through the glass, "Graverobber, are you still there?" Your brows knitted together, "Graverobber, how am I supposed to get back out? Graverobber? Grave! G-man! Help me out here, how the hell do I get out again?" Silence. "Alright, I'm sorry, consider your point well and truly proven!" Not even the breeze stirred. "Fine, fine! Well done, you got your own back you bastard!" Harrumphing, you stormed off to the kitchen to put the kettle on. Filling it with water to the minimum mark, your ears pricked up to a scraping sound.

From the depths of the shadows, Graverobber watched Livewire examine the long piece of bare, twisted metal before looking around in astonishment. A smirk crept up one side of his face as she composed her face to a look of nonchalance and tucked the wire safely inside her pocket. He liked this kid.


End file.
